


Surprises

by tarie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarie/pseuds/tarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione surprises Ron, but he isn't to be outdone...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprises

A long time ago, he learnt that he shouldn't be surprised by anything that Hermione Granger did.

Even though that lesson had been burnt into him since he was eleven, every once in a while he would find himself to be absolutely stunned by something she'd do.

And right then and there definitely qualified as one of those 'every once in a whiles'. 

Less than an hour ago he'd arrived home after a gruelling and rather disappointing Quidditch practice. If he continued to play as crap as he'd been doing for the past few weeks, pretty soon he would find himself as the reserve Keeper instead of the starting one. He didn't know what was wrong with his game and, after being yelled at for three solid hours on the pitch, he didn't want to dwell on it. All he had wanted was a hot shower and a lie down. And maybe some tea. Tea was comforting. He liked tea.

After Apparating directly into the bedroom, he'd shucked off his Quidditch kit and padded down the hall to the bathroom. As he passed the staircase, Hermione's voice drifted up from the livingroom; obviously she'd been in the middle of a Firechat, probably with Mandy Brocklehurst or someone else from her work. Calling a greeting down to her, he went into the bathroom and hit the shower.

It was only a matter of moments before hot water pounded away at his aching muscles and slid down his skin in thick rivulets. The heat of the water and the steam all around him felt incredibly good. Relaxing, almost. He could have stayed in there all evening, but the prospect of his skin getting all pruny wasn't a pleasant one. And so, with a resigned sigh, he shut off the taps and pushed his hair back off of his forehead, then reached for his towel.

It wasn't there.

He always kept it in the same spot; how could it not be there?

Peering cautiously out of the shower, he glanced around the room. His towel was no where in sight. 

Brilliant. Just brilliant.

The linen closet was inside their bedroom, as was his wand. There was no way he could Summon a towel; he wasn't as powerful a wizard as Harry, who could do wandless magic in the blink of an eye. No, he'd just have to suck it up and make his way quickly as possible through the hallway down to the bedroom and hope like hell Hermione wouldn't catch him. If he got water all over the carpet and the floorboards, she'd hex a goolie off; he was sure of it.

When he got close to the staircase, he slowed down, taking pains to be as quiet as possible. He couldn't hear her downstairs; her Firechat must have ended while he was in the shower. He could only hope that she was sitting in her chair by the fireplace catching up on some reading or in her study working on reports. 

Safely past the staircase, he put on a burst of speed and breathed a sigh of relief when his fingers curled around the cool brass of the doorknob. Safe.

Risking a glance over his shoulder as he pushed the door open, he cringed slightly at all of the watery footprints in the hallway. He'd have to perform a Drying Charm as soon as possible before that left any sort of mark.

All thoughts of towels and wands and Drying Charms went completely round the bend when he stepped into the bedroom and saw what was waiting for him.

Hermione Granger.

In his Quidditch kit.

Well, most of it.

She hadn't bothered with the gloves or the knee guards or the jumper, but she'd put on the outer robe and the trousers. Both with lacing up the front.

_Oh thank you God. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but thank you all the bloody same._

As he was much taller than her, a good bit of the courderoy trousers pooled at her ankles. But that was quite all right, as once his eyes moved up over the fabric at her feet, he could plainly see that they fit her just fine in other places. In the thighs, for one.

Now, Hermione wasn't as muscular or broad as him, of course. His thighs were more solid and such than hers. But for some reason - and Ron wasn't about to stop and wonder just why- those corduroy trousers of his looked damn good on her thighs. They weren't _tight_ , per se, but they curved very nicely around her form. So nicely, in fact, that he had to walk right up to her and make a slow circle, admiring her. 

After making a full circle (and feeling a bit miffed that his outer robes covered her arse as he really would have liked to have seen them in the trousers), he stopped in front of her and grinned down at her, his spirits - and something else perhaps - lifted a little.

"Hullo," he said, his eyes dropping to her chest. Her breasts weren't overly large but they were a nice handful each and, oh, did they ever look brilliant straining against the lacings of the robe.

"You're getting water everywhere," she chided. Strange, he thought vaguely, she doesn't even sound that cross.

"Yeah." He nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from her chest, which was rising and falling in the most brilliant way against the laces as she breathed in and out. He would have given his left arm to be one of those laces right about then.

"Were you looking for something?"

Two of her fingers curled under his chin and he felt her lifting it up, meeting her eyes at last. 

Swallowed hard. "Yeah," he said again, a bit hoarsely this time, "I was."

"What was it?" 

_Merlin._

It wasnt often she used that coy tone of voice with him. In fact, it was downright rare. It was downright rare and oh _God_ how he loved it. 

His pulse quickened but he willed himself to not give away anything yet. Although she had managed to surprise him, what with the Quidditch kit and the coy voice and all, he wasn't going to let her have the upper hand. She got it much too often. It was about time she learnt that sometimes things could be just as brilliant if she let someone else have the upper hand every once in a while.

"My towel," he said finally, taking a step back from her. 

She dropped her hand to her side and gave him a knowing look. "Oh, this?" she asked, stepping aside to reveal his neatly folded towel sitting on the night stand.

"Mmhmm," he said slowly, moving toward it. Their shoulders brushed when he passed her and he _thought_ she gasped a little but he couldn't be sure. That was all right, though. Just the thought of it was enough to curve his mouth up into a grin. Taking up the towel in one hand, he rubbed at his hair with it and then slid it over one shoulder and then the other. "Nice outfit," he said casually, now patting at his chest with the terrycloth.

"Are you sure? I'm not quite certain it's _me_ , but I've always admired it so on you." 

He wanted to laugh at the way she tilted her hips, resting one hand on there likely before she even realised it (as the hand-on-hip stance was so natural for her), looking ever inch a scholar playing dress-up. Which she was. And it was damned sexy.

Lips twitched and laughter bubbled in his throat but he managed to hold it back, nodding solemnly instead. "Yes, I'm dead positive. You make a smashing Quidditch player." The towel dropped to the floor and he wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her against him. "So smashing, in fact," he continued, "that I'm afraid I'm going to have to act the part of a rabid Quidditch fan...what do you call them? Groupies?...and have my way with you." A grin. Flash of white teeth and the hint of a laugh. "Because what man in his right mind would pass up the opportunity to shag the fittest Quidditch bird out there?"

That earned him a huff and an eyeroll, but he noted with a triumphant smirk that she didn't sock him on the shoulder or try to pull away. Pleased, his hand moved down to cup her arse and he squeezed a bit; she rewarded him by slowly standing on the tips of her toes and then settling back down on her feet, her corduroyed thigh moving up and then down against his cock.

_Ohhhhhhh._

Biting down hard on his upper lip, he found that only minimally stifled his moan. Dammit. He'd have to work a lot harder to make sure things were to _his_ advantage, not hers.

Judging from the cat-that-ate-the-canary look on her face, maybe even twice than 'a lot harder'.

Wanting to cut her off before she said anything smug about his little reaction there, he leaned in swiftly and captured her lips with his own for a hard, demanding kiss. He noted with some satisfaction that she'd moved the hand that had been on her hip up to wrap around his bicep as he moved his lips against hers. Sliding his tongue in her mouth, he could taste Cadbury - she had a weakness for the Muggle chocolate - and a hint of tea - oh God, _tea_ -and all Hermione. It drove him mad; he loved the taste of her. He loved the taste of her and if he could he'd devour her. But that wasn't possible, so he did the next best thing - he snogged the hell out of her. His mouth pressed against hers firmly, sucking on her tongue one minute and then exploring the warm cavern of her mouth the next with his own, nearly snogging the breath right out of her. His hand on her arse kneaded and she did that moving up and down on her feet thing again and oh _fuck_ he wanted her. So much. So much that he didn't care how much his aching muscles, spent from a horrendous Quidditch practice, might protest; he had to have her.

Breaking off the kiss, he inhaled deeply and fell back onto the bed behind them, hands finding purchase on her robe and pulling her near. Enveloping her in his arms, he buried his face in in her cleavage, inhaling deeply. The smell of sweat and sky from his robes mingled with the soapy cleanness of her skin and it was completely brilliant. She was so very warm, with every breath her chest rose up against his skin. His hands left the small of her back to palm her breasts while he placed a soft kiss between them, sucking lightly on her flesh before pulling back to admire again the way they looked against the laces. Hermione moaned low in her throat and arched her back, pushing herself into his hands. He grinned, gave her a wink, and then hooked his fingers behind the lacing, yanking her hard against him. The moan turned into a gasp, a gasp which he echoed as one of her hands ran along his length. 

But now was not the time to give in and let her take control. Oh no. 

Before she could wrap her fingers around his cock, he grabbed her wrist and pinned it behind her back with one hand while the other deftly undid the lacing on the robe. With something of a feral growl, he attacked her throat, nipping and licking and sucking, all the while twisting them around so that her back was to the bed. Slowly moving down her form, his lips and tongue glided over her collar bone and the slope of her breasts, stopping momentarily to pay attention to one nipple and then the other before taking the time to lay feather-light kisses along the bottom of her ribcage. Hands curled around her hips and then pushed her gently back onto the mattress.

One of her hands reached up to cup his face and he gave her a small smile as he looked down at her, completely caught up in the way she was looking at him, as if he were everything. He wasn't sure if he was her everything, but he wanted to be. He wanted to be because she was _his_ everything.

"What?" he asked quietly, his voice hitching a little as one of her legs moved beneath him in just the right way, the friction definitely going straight to his groin.

"Oh, it's nothing," she returned with a small smirk. "I just think you're turning out to be the best Quidditch groupie ever, that's all. You must have had tonnes of practice."

Laughter bubbled up in his throat and he nodded. Feigning seriousness, he said, " _Tonnes_. I've a brilliant teacher; I owe it all to her."

"Is that so?" she asked, her eyes dancing. "You'll have to thank her for me then. And I do hope that you appreciate her and her ability to have the patience to instruct you. "

"Oh, I will," he murmured, dipping down and running his tongue along her jawline. "And I do. Very much."

"Good," Hermione whispered, fingers fisting in his hair.

"Brilliant," Ron corrected, turning his head the slightest of degrees. She got his message and dropped her hands to her side. Placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth, he then slithered down her frame to his destination - the waistband of the corduroy trousers.

Sliding his fingers beneath the waistband, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that she wasn't wearing any knickers underneath his trousers. Pleasantly surprised and slightly amused, he chuckled as he pressed his cheek against the lace fly, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of her beneath him and the way her stomach rose and fell beneath his face. 

"Ron." Her voice was low and insistent and he knew if he didn't do something soon that she'd take it upon herself to get things started. And as he couldn't have that, he propped himself up on his elbows and grabbed hold of one end of the lace in his teeth. The further he pushed himself up, the smaller the tie in the lace got. When the tie was completely gone, he released the lace from his teeth and sat up on his knees, straddling her thighs. She writhed beneath him, raising her hips in invitation. Eyes meeting hers, he nodded and rolled the fabric down over the curve of her hips, manoevring so that he could work it down her thighs, calves, and pull it off of her feet. Tossing the trousers to the floor, he couldn't resist grinning as her legs fell open for him. 

And then he had the most brilliant idea. 

It wasn't the first time he'd had it, mind, but he'd never been...foolish? brave? stupid?...enough to bring it up in conversation before. He thought maybe she'd be disgusted, for some reason. Or shocked.

But perhaps shocked was what he was intending to go for. After all, shock and surprise went hand in hand, did they not?

Maybe she deserved a little surprise of her own.

"Roll over." Oh-so-very-casual.

"What?" She sounded confused. 

"Roll over," he repeated with a grin.

She pressed her palms flat against the mattress and half-sat up. "What?" 

"Do you trust me, Hermione?"

One corner of her mouth turned up. "Of course, I do. I--"

"Then please roll over," Ron said, "before I--"

She cut him off mid-sentence. "Oh, _honestly_!" - rolling over - "Of all the things I do for the likes of you, Ron Weasley. You don't have to threaten me, you know I--"

"I know you love me and you'll do it. Unless you think I'm doing something wrong," he finished for her, smacking her arse when she settled down into the duvets on her stomach. She shrieked with indignation and he laughed, fingers curling around the hem of his robe.

"What're you doing?" Her voice was both curious and a bit muffled.

"Oh, just you wait," he said nonchalantly, lifting the robe up and scooting underneath it, slowly crawling up her legs as the fabric billowed up in the air and slowly came back down to pool on top of them. 

Ticklish behind the knees, she'd always been. He couldn't resist running his fingers back and forth them lightly, chuckling under his breath when her legs jerked. Faintly he could hear her protesting and he bit his lip to hold the laughter back, laying his hands on the inside of her thighs and sliding them up her soft skin - up, up, and up until they met the place where her legs came together. And there was her arse and he couldn't help but to lean down and bite one cheek - not enough to hurt but enough to leave a bit of a mark. Her hips rocked back and he pushed her down onto the mattress, sucking at the spot he'd bit. Hands moved up over the contour of her arse and spread her cheeks with a gentle touch. And there it was, the place he'd been dying to touch for yonks now, dying to do the thing he'd been leery of bringing up to her. 

"Hermione," he whispered, his breath ghosting over her pucker. He'd never had anyone do this to him but he could just imagine how it might feel to have warm breath moving over that very secret spot and he moaned in empathy when her hips jerked. "Shhhh," he said quietly, brushing his fingers along the insides of her cheeks slowly, reassuringly. And when he was sure that she was going to stay still, he leaned down and pressed the tip of his tongue against her entrance. 

Blood pounded in his ears and he could just make out a strangled gasp-moan-whimper from her. Encouraged, licked up and down and then _around_ the tight ring of muscle there before stabbing against her pucker, his cock becoming harder by the minute. 

Hermione's hips lifted off of the bed, pushing her arse against him.

Brilliant. Bloody fucking _brilliant_.

She wasn't disgusted by it at all. She _liked_ it. Judging from how insistently she was pushing back against him, she wanted more. And he was more than happy to oblige her, thrusting his tongue past the ring of muscles, withdrawing it slightly and then moving it forward again, fucking her with his tongue. 

Tension was pooling in his cock now, though, and, as tempting as it was just to pull himself off while doing this to her, it would be tonnes better to come inside of her. 

So he pulled back, rolling off of her onto his back and pulling her on top of him. She was panting, a flush in her cheeks, and he pressed a kiss on her cheek, nuzzling her before lipping her ear slightly. "Sometimes," he said hoarsely, "the teacher can learn a thing or two." And, with that, he rolled his hips, hands moving to hers while her hand held his cock, guiding him inside of her as she sank down onto him.

He didn't last long at all. Between the thrill of just doing what he had to her and the way she was moving herself up and down his cock, moving her hips in a figure eight, he was just totally _gone_. His orgasm tore through him like some great mighty hex to end all hexes and his back arched completely off of the bed for a long moment before he just _collapsed_ with a low moan. She sighed and fell on top of him, dropping a kiss on his forehead before snuggling down against his shoulder. 

"That was different," she said softly, running a hand along his side.

"Mmhmm," he murmured, curling an arm around her protectively. "Bit of a surprise, eh?"

"A bit." She laughed lightly, her breath tickling his throat. "But I like surprises."

A slow grin broke out on his face. "I'll remember that. I think I can arrange for a few more surprises."

_Which thing to surprise her with next is the question..._


End file.
